Copied from a popular gay blog

I am a 25-year-old gay Nigerian living with sickle cell disease, and it has been a journey. I grew up feeling ashamed of myself, feeling like something was wrong with me. As someone living with sickle cell, the excruciating pain you get when you have pain crisis is something no one can understand except they are living with the same illness.

I am the first child of my parents, the only son and the first of five children. And for as long as I can remember, my parents have always treated me like it is my fault that I have what I have. As the firstborn and only son, there’s a tendency for those looking in from outside to think that my life is good.

But it hasn’t been.

It’s been hell.

First of all, growing up, I went through sexual abuse from an older family member. I was six when it happened, and that situation still messes me up till now.

I’ve been told by my parents when I’m having crises to behave and stop embarrassing them, to stop acting – as though my pain is an inconvenience I am burdening them with. As the years went by, I’d have a crisis and need to go to the hospital, and when I inform my father, he would get mad, raise his voice at me and call me all sorts of names. He would drop me off at the entrance of the hospital and then drive off, leaving me with barely enough money to cover whatever treatment I am supposed to get. One night, because I wasn’t given enough money, the nurses refused to attend to me and they mocked me all night. I was huddled up in the hospital waiting room in pain; it was looking like I would spend the night there, unattended to. I had to beg an uncle for money, to come to my aid. Fortunately, he came through for me.

Anytime I have crisis and my parents have enough compassion to give me enough money to get myself admitted in the hospital, I am left there on my own. Nobody comes to see me in the hospital with food. One time, while I was admitted in the hospital, my father called me to say, “What are you doing there? You better tell them you want to go home, if you know what’s good for you.”

In my first year in university, during my very first exam, I had a crisis. When it started right when the exam was about to commence, I was begging God: Please, not now!

But He wasn’t listening. My situation got so bad that I had to ask for help. I was assisted to the school clinic where they asked for my parents’ number. I gave them my mother’s number and when they called her and she asked to speak to me, the first thing she said was, “So you have gone to your school to disgrace me, eh?”

She said all sorts of mean things to me. My father was there too and I could hear me saying terrible things too. Their son was experiencing a crisis on the day of his exam and they were more concerned with the embarrassment I was bringing to them.

In the end, I was forced to write the exam in that condition. Initially, due to the lack of apparent interest from my parents, the clinic personnel had to hold back on giving me any meds. I had the option of going home, but the school told me if I didn’t write the exam, it would result in a carryover. So, I returned to the exam hall in pain. It was excruciating. I was crying, confused and helpless. The question paper was right in front of me and I couldn’t do anything with it. A doctor intervened and insisted on me getting medication. That didn’t solve my problem, because after taking the meds, before I knew it, I had fallen asleep on the paper I hadn’t finished writing. The invigilator didn’t wake me; he simply collected the paper and left.

In the end, I failed four courses that semester. When the news got to parents, my mother spat at my feet and my father beat me with his belt before pushing me out the gate half naked. A neighbour had to intervene and plead on my behalf before I was let back into the house.

In spite of my ailment, I fought tooth and nail to graduate from that school. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was hellish. Lecturers mocked me whenever I had a crisis. One said my parents should have sent me to a school for the disabled and the whole class laughed. Another called me a beggar, because I’d become known for my desperation, and the class enjoyed the comedy at my expense. I fought to graduate and thank God I did. I didn’t drop out. I graduated with a BSc in Pharmacology, even though it was a Third Class. But it was my pain and effort. My parents told me how useless I was for graduating with a Third Class, and every other day after graduation, I am reminded cruelly of my graduating result. They’d tell me constantly how the world will reject me because I graduated with a Third Class.

Recently, I had a minor chest pain in church. I told my mother that I wanted to go home because I wasn’t feeling well. When they came back from church hours later, she told me not to follow them to church again. That was the beginning of my parents slowly cutting me off even while I lived with them under the same roof. My mother would cook for the family and I wouldn’t be included. I wasn’t allowed to eat her food. I’d starve for hours or make do with bread and tea. Sometimes, through some outsider’s generosity, I’d get some foodstuff of mine to cook, cooking which I did in the middle of the night. When my parents found out that I was getting up late at night to cook, they screamed at me, forbidding me from making use of the kitchen before I will burn down their house.

They make me go to the market, wash the car, go on errands, school runs, and do general house chores. I have no job, so they use me. And whenever I fall sick and beg to rest from the relentless tasks, my father will ask me if the sickness if paralyzing me, before commanding me to get up and get on with the chore. If I’m in bed by the time it is 6 AM, he would come into my room and hit me, shouting at me to get up and start with the house chores.

I won’t lie; in the past, despite their cruelty, I used to love my parents. I held on to the wish that they’d one day see the good in me and start loving me like they loved my sisters. But I have been broken. I have gotten tired. I am in constant pain, both from my heart and my body.

I get some help from my uncle sometimes – God bless him. But I can’t rely on him all the time. These days, I feel broken and hopeless. I don’t think anyone will ever see me as anything good. I don’t feel worthy of love.

During the lockdown, my cousin offered to help pay my tuition should I get admission in Canada or London. Even this my parents tried to ruin for me, telling me that should I get overseas, I should better not disgrace myself, else I will be deported or killed or committed to a psychiatric hospital. I have been trying very hard to apply to schools in both Canada and London, even though some of them come with application fee that I don’t have. Fortunately, one of them clicked, but it will be all the way in May next year before I can get out of here.

In the meantime, I am suffering in my parents’ house. I am mentally and physically abused. I am starved. My pain is ignored and my need for hospital care considered a big inconvenience. I am crushed with housework.

I am holding on to the hope of leaving, but that is five months away. In the meantime, I desperately need help to survive the hell that I am in. I just need to keep my head down and focus on taking care of myself as best as I can. I have tortured myself with the decision of coming to this community to tell my story and ask for help – and a few friends who are members of the community have encouraged me to do so. That is why I am here. If there is anybody in this community who has the good heart of helping me keep myself alive until May next year, please help me.

Help me stay alive long enough to get out of this hell.

All Gay's must die in 2021

So you actually copied this long post and want us to read and argue on it? You think we are jobless?

post=97714621:
All Gay's must die in 2021

Well you'd die first and we'll wish you eternal rest
Nah I changed my mind, you'd rot in eternal hell ( if there ever is )

This is so disheartening
Pls go and find out if truly those people you call your parent are your parent??
Because if na me I for don commit suicide, you're a strong one I must say, I pray God sees you through.

BIGPREEQ:
This is so disheartening
Pls go and find out if truly those people you call your parent are your parent??
Because if na me I for don commit suicide, you're a strong one I must say, I pray God sees you through.

Like seriously tho. Some parents are worse sha. It's disheartening

FuckHomophobes:


Like seriously tho. Some parents are worse sha. It's disheartening

are you born again?

Brendaniel:


are you born again?

No

Kestolove:
All Gay's must die in 2021

I guess you're the Grim Reaper.

FuckHomophobes:


No

would you like to be?

Brendaniel:


would you like to be?

Let's fu.uck first

FuckHomophobes:


Let's fu.uck first

ok, no problem, how do you want it?

Brendaniel:


ok, no problem, how do you want it?

Now you're talking babes. Connect with me via mail and let's share raunchy pictures

FuckHomophobes:


Now you're talking babes. Connect with me via mail and let's share raunchy pictures

I don't share pictures, I prefer meeting in person, but the bleep is not a problem, I just want to ask why you want the bleep first?

the story is cooked by one jobless nigerian youth who is trying to scam the american gays into helping him.

Brendaniel:


I don't share pictures, I prefer meeting in person, but the bleep is not a problem, I just want to ask why you want the bleep first?

Do you have a big dic'k or a fat ass??

scofield114:
the story is cooked by one jobless nigerian youth who is trying to scam the american gays into helping him.

/Rest. At least you did not see an account number there. Not like you were even going to give before.

FuckHomophobes:


Do you have a big dic'k or a fat ass??

ok, I know what you want, I was once almost like you but I stopped...

Brendaniel:


ok, I know what you want, I was once almost like you but I stopped...

Confession time. Let's enter dm joor

FuckHomophobes:


Confession time. Let's enter dm joor

No...

Brendaniel:


No...

I'm falling for you already darling. Let's enter dm

FuckHomophobes:


I'm falling for you already darling. Let's enter dm

I told you I stopped doing such... and I also want you to stop doing such...

Brendaniel:


I told you I stopped doing such... and I also want you to stop doing such...

Okay, I've heard you darling

FuckHomophobes:


Okay, I've heard you bro

There is a way that seemeth right unto a man but the end thereof is destruction...

Brendaniel:


There is a way that seemeth right unto a man but the end thereof is destruction...

Come unto me, oh ye that are sex starved and I'll give you a nice f"uck .

Don't miss this darling.

FuckHomophobes:


Come unto me, oh ye that are sex starved and I'll give you a nice f"uck .

Don't miss this darling.

Check this https://changedmovement.com/

Man was designed to please God, just like a product is designed to please the manufacturer, when a product does otherwise it is termed as faulty, failed and bad because something is wrong with it, the manufacturer will seek to correct it and that's what Jesus wants to do for you, He wants to make the best out of you...

Brendaniel:


Check this https://changedmovement.com/

Man was designed to please God, just like a product is designed to please the manufacturer, when a product does otherwise it is termed as faulty, failed and bad because something is wrong with it, the manufacturer will seek to correct it and that's what Jesus wants to do for you, He wants to make the best out of you...

Darling send me your naughty pics

FuckHomophobes:


Darling send me your naughty pics

https://www.nairaland.com/6271024/what-need-know-homosexuality-read

Grace is seeking to find you, why not let grace find you...

Brendaniel:


https://www.nairaland.com/6271024/what-need-know-homosexuality-read

Grace is seeking to find you, why not let grace find you...

I love you. Let's fuc"k

FuckHomophobes:


Darling send me your naughty pics

Now i see dat all gay re mentally ill........


After all d boobs and saucy vaginnass out there with differents backside na ur fellow man u dey trip for......


Las las dem don finish work ontop ur life.....